A King at Hogwarts
by Shadenight123
Summary: Through the Veil of the department of Mystery he fell. In one story, he returns to his world. In another, he arrives into a world of Canon and of surprises. With two years of difference in theory, but a practical side to make up for it, how will Harry Wyllt, heir of Hogwarts, change the fifth year? (Written sporadically as Spin-Off of Harry Dursley and the Chronicles of the King)
1. Chapter 1

A King at Hogwarts

Chapter One

He took a deep shuddering breath as he slowly stood up.

And then he blinked.

For he was standing in a classroom at Hogwarts, and at the professor's desk was a horrendous looking woman clad in pink.

"Mr. Potter…is there something you wish to say to the class?"

He blearily looked to his side, where Ronald Weasley was eying him worriedly. He looked for Hermione, and found her not too far away.

Why was she sporting Gryffindor colours now? And why…he looked at his own tie too, and when the crimson and gold colours were found, he nearly gagged.

Just where had he ended up?

"I don't feel very well," he murmured. His right hand went up to his forehead. Was there a scar on it? His fingers touched it gingerly. He had a scar on his head? Since when? Of what?

He turned around with what he acutely knew was a lost look. If this was hell or heaven, then it was the strangest one ever.

"This type of attention-seeking is the worst, Mr. Potter," the woman clipped back in an icy tone. "Not only are you still believing in Voldemort's return —which is preposterous— you also dare interrupt my lesson!"

"Harry, mate, _sit down_," Ron Weasley whispered next to him.

Mate?

Again!?

He groaned in frustration as he clenched his fists. He took a step out of the desk and turned to leave.

"Mr. Potter! Come back here! It will be fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention! You cann—"

Leaving the classroom behind, Harry's gaze went to the closest portrait.

"Where's the infirmary?"

The portrait —a plump woman that looked in her fifties— snorted back at him before shrugging off.

Weren't the portraits supposed to be helpful?

He decided to hope that, against all odds, the infirmary was still at the usual place within the castle. He didn't need long to find it, the door the same as well as the bronze plaque near it that warned students of Madam Pomfrey's hours.

There wasn't a tag for his mother though —maybe in this strange world she didn't work as the nurse?

And just what the hell was the pink-dressed woman's problem? Was she a councillor or one of the electives' teachers? Maybe…maybe she was the Ghoul studies one? If he actually was in a world where he was a Gryffindor —a bloody, horrible and stupidly thuggish Gryffindor— then there might be other changes…

He wondered how Draco actually would take this.

Harry decided to take a tour of the castle, since his mother wasn't there…maybe his father?

No, apparently there was a 'Dolores Umbridge' at the head of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Maybe his parents simply hadn't become professors? And where was Lillian to begin with?

He couldn't take a step without her nearly hounding him, and with the way he had acted she should have been on his case in seconds.

He couldn't trust many people, and judging by the long robes he was wearing he had probably grown a few more inches. And what was the deal with Ron calling him 'mate'?

His hands pushed apart the wooden doors of the library. He could stay in there as he waited for the answers to come to him, he supposed.

No doubt the woman would warn the Headmaster, who would in turn ask a professor to come and take him to his office. He didn't want to risk ending up lost in the castle —in its good days, the castle itself was a maze to the unwary.

His thoughts turned to be correct, as he was found by Professor McGonagall one hour later. Long enough for him to peruse the Defence Against the Dark Arts text, showing him it was a fifth year material, and long enough to understand that he needed to meet with the Bloody Baron urgently.

But the Bloody Baron worked for Peeves… didn't he take orders from King Arthur in ghost form?

"Mr. Potter!" the stern woman looked at him with her usual gaze, albeit this time around he sensed a sort of worry behind those eyes he had not usually seen. It was more suspicion from where he came from, rather than worry. He had chosen the corner of the library, hidden among the shelves and out of sight from most of the students' body.

"Professor," Harry replied calmly. His gaze locked with hers.

"Mr. Potter?" the woman recoiled slightly, taking a step back.

Had he done something wrong, he wondered?

"Is there a problem?" he supplied with a helpful tone.

The woman seemed lost for a second, before nodding decisively. "Yes there is indeed a problem, Mr. Potter! Never in all my years at Hogwarts have I seen such disrespect for a professor! And you weren't even in the infirmary! Had you not lied, I would have defended you but in this situation…"

Harry nodded slowly, once.

His gaze settled once more on the professor.

"Mr. Potter… Are you all right?" the woman's lecture had trailed off, and she was now looking at him with something akin to worry. It was evidently creeping in her voice…but for what reason? There was no way she could have read into his mind.

"I am," he acknowledged. "You seem perplexed. Did you expect me to…" he frowned, "to be skittering and nervous?"

The old woman took a deep breath, before muttering a soft curse in old Scottish.

"Mr. Potter, did you just read my mind?"

"Superficially," Harry admitted —no need hiding it. "You are Dumbledore's choice for bringing me to him, correct?"

"Aye," why was she nervous now? "Are ye…are ye the Dark Lord?"

"What nonsense are you spouting now, Professor?" Harry blinked as his face morphed into a puzzled one. "I'm Harry Potter. If I were the Dark Lord…I'd be acting like one, right?"

"You most certainly ain't acting like me student Potter!" the woman's outburst was met with her taking out her wand and pointing it at point-blank at him. "Who the bloody hell are ye then!?"

"I," he replied calmly as he slowly stood up.

"Am," he added as a familiar weight in the side of his robes slowly made its way up to his waiting palm.

He smiled then, he smiled as the wand reached for his palm and struck with a silent _Trudo_ the Scottish professor straight in the chest —sending her to tumble and crash against the shelf on the other side. He hadn't wanted to kill her, but as he eyed his wand he scowled slightly.

"King," he softly added as an afterthought, as he gave his back to the professor and began to walk towards the Headmaster's office. He had skimmed most of the woman's thoughts, but what he had needed to know he had acquired.

The office, or the gargoyle for what mattered, hadn't moved.

"Move aside," he remarked to the statue which remained immobile.

"Lemon Drops," he supplied.

"Icy Roaches? Liquorice Leeches? Jellybeans? Spritz? Water? Sparkling Water? Oh for the love of Merlin!" he snarled. "_Open up_ in the name of Hogwarts' heir!"

That earned a reaction, as the Gargoyle opened its eyes and stared at him for a second, before he slowly moved aside.

"Was that difficult?" he mumbled to himself as he stepped into the lion's den. The fact he was holding onto his wand as he carefully walked inside was just a sign of his cautiousness. Silently, his gaze went to the desk where the Headmaster was in wait with his hands clasped together and his eyes fixedly pointed at the instruments to the side of his office.

"Are you familiar with a Sneak-o-scope?" the old wizard asked wearily, as a flash of red light caught Harry's attention. Sitting on the perch near his desk was…

Sophie?

"Sophie?" he whispered, looking at the phoenix who stared back at him with curious eyes. There was softness in them, something that soon tugged at his heartstrings, before the fire bird gave a soft chirp and flew to land on his shoulder.

In that moment the Headmaster let out a long and dreary sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," the man's hands went to rub his tired eye-lids. "I had no idea what to do, should the worst have happened."

"The worst?" Harry remarked, bringing up an eyebrow as he gently petted Sophie's head.

"I assume you are not Harry Potter then? Are you one of his friends I knew not of? Under Polyjuice perchance?" the old wizard asked again with a slightly more relaxed tone. "In any event, while I can understand your helpfulness in keeping young Harry out of classes, I would like you to terminate the enchantment on yourself and…"

"I am Harry Potter," he supplied back. "Son of James and Lily Potter, only…well…" how much could he tell? He narrowed his eyes.

"Do you vouch for him, Sophie?" he whispered to the phoenix, which moved her head to the side before nodding eagerly.

"Sophie? It is the second time I hear you call Fawkes that name, and yet I cannot fathom why you would," Albus' hands clasped together as he waited for Harry's words.

"Because from where I come from, Fawkes was reborn as Sophie the day she left your service forever," he shrugged as he answered back. "From where I come from I am Harry Potter, brother of the Girl-Who-Lived, Ravenclaw Third Year and heir of Hogwarts." He's slid over the death of Karkaroff, the training with Gellert, his escape from England, his return, his friendship with Heather…was the basilisk still safe here at professor's Snape's mansion?

The man's eyes met his for a split second, and within the next both had each other's wands pointed. Albus had raised his own in response to Harry's, but that didn't mean anything as both were now deadly serious in grasping their respective weapons.

"You tried to read my mind," Harry accused.

"I was just seeking confirmation," Albus remarked calmly. "Nothing more, I assure you."

"I cannot trust you, not until you prove to me you are not like the one I know."

The man frowned, before quietly asking.

"Have I proven myself untrustworthy to you, Mr. Potter?"

"You mean, except trying to frame me for the murders at Hogwarts?"

"I— I would never!" the icy blue eyes widened slightly in disbelief, as the headmaster's skin paled considerably. "I can understand your distrust then in my regards, but what else can you do to prove who you are?"

Harry closed his eyes, bringing his right hand up to his chin as he began to think. "I think some things might be different, but how much they are I will have to discover them by myself." He hesitated. "Is Gellert still alive here?"

There was silence in the room, as Albus' eyes peered into Harry's face. "Was he," Dumbledore's was voice seemed to hold some strange sort of hope in his tone, "was he my opposite then? I can sense your distrust of me, so maybe…was Grindelwald a fighter for the light?"

"Light doesn't exist," Harry remarked calmly, "only different shades of grey. He was my teacher, during the period I spent exiled from England because of… the other-Dumbledore? I suppose I can use that as a name convention." Harry whispered the last part. "He was killed at Hogwarts, by your hand as you claimed, when he tried to claim the school as Salazar Slytherin marched towards it."

"Salazar himself?" Albus' eyes seemed to twinkle now. "What an interesting world you come from," the headmaster added. "Was he defeated?"

"I hoped so," he croaked out. He shook his head then. "I was wrong. I battled him throughout the sea, sunk his ships and worked my way to him…in the end it was Nicholas Flamel who did the deed —I was forced to take the laurel as you and Fudge asked me to. Turns out he had possessed Fudge. He was the one who sent me through the Veil at the ministry."

Harry breathed slowly then, his right hand moving to his mouth. "I'm still…a bit shocked I suppose. It's been little since it happened and…"

"I understand," Albus nodded soothingly. "Well, I cannot detect lies in your speech, albeit you are holding back something from me —but I cannot fault you now, can I? In any event, you claimed to be a third year of Ravenclaw? Most curious…I suppose your upbringing was different?"

"I have nothing to compare it to," he remarked wistfully, "but my parents' memories are a fond thing for me."

"You have yet to lower your wand," Albus calmly added then, as if it was an afterthought.

"You have yet to tell your phoenix to leave my shoulder," he replied smoothly. "I know how fierce a phoenix can be after all."

There was a nod from Albus, and Fawkes chirped before flying back on his perch.

Harry placed the wand back into his belt.

"By the way," he began calmly. "I need to get my wand back."

"Oh? It is not the same wand?" Dumbledore was now visibly curious. "Of course," he blinked. "You are the brother of the Girl-Who-Lived? Your parents were still alive then?"

"Yeah," he acquiesced. "Didn't know about them till end of the first year, when you decided that obliviating me and using me as bait for Voldemort was a nice idea."

There was quite the wince from the headmaster now, who seemed to be clasping his hands tightly together.

"What monster was I, to use a child in such a way?" Albus murmured in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. "I must have gone insane."

"Ah, don't tell me," Harry shrugged. "Thankfully I recovered all of my memories, but…" he blinked. "Is Snape here still loyal to you?"

"Professor Snape is," Albus added. "I suppose that with your parents alive, he was different?"

"I still don't have anything to compare this one to the past one," Harry said. "But Severus was quite the spy and to this moment I still don't know which side he is on."

"First name basis?"

"He is not here to say any different, and he was the one who hid me away from you and suggested Durmstrang as my 'exile' location —sent me straight in Gellert's hands too."

"I wonder, what type of education did you receive?"

Harry just smiled.

"The best," he chuckled. "Seriously though, I can suppose my parents are dead here?"

"You don't seem sad about it."

"Dumbledore's men throughout —my mother was slightly different but…" he shrugged. "In the big scheme of things I didn't have much time to get to know them better. Worrying about surviving your schemes, training and the likes…all took their toll on my 'normality'."

"I am sorry."

"Doesn't matter," Harry shook his head. "I still don't trust you and you still don't trust me, so how about we just do this the old way and we both go on our own road? I might have hit your Professor McGonagall with a _Trudo_ spell, though I did make sure she wasn't even bleeding from it."

"It seems your practical side is up with far more than the fifth year curriculum," Albus agreed as he stood up. "The theory with you as a Ravenclaw will be easy to fill. I will give you a one week suspension from lessons. Officially as punishment, unofficially as a mean to study what you have missed. It is little time, I admit, but it is far more than—"

Then the door of the office opened up, as a huffing Minerva arrived with her wand in hand.

"Albus! He's not—"

"I know!" Albus brought up his right hand to stop the Scottish woman from firing another spell. "And he meant you no harm, Minerva. He is Mr. Potter, worry not. Just…not ours, I suppose."

Harry nodded. "I am sorry, Professor McGonagall, for my actions —when you reacted in that way I just…attacked."

"Understandable due to his background Minerva, rest assured I will fill you in on what you need to know, like I will the other professors I trust." Implicitly, Harry knew he meant Snape.

"But Dumbledore, he could be—"

"Now, Minerva…" Dumbledore's gaze on the woman was stern. "Trust me."

Harry snorted. "I'll take my leave then," he added. "I wonder, is Hermione still a book-smart?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, she is."

"Good to know."

With those words, Harry walked out of Dumbledore's office with a quick stride, his legs taking him across the corridors of Hogwarts and towards the Gryffindor's common rooms. He just checked with a portrait to be sure. The fat lady looked at him for a split second, before asking.

"Password?"

"I am the heir of Hogwarts," Harry remarked rolling his eyes.

"Most certainly you are—" and then the portrait swung aside. "That's not—"

Harry ignored the voice as he made his way through the tunnel. Really, did they have to use a tunnel across a wall to reach their common rooms? He always wondered why nobody had realized sooner that these 'common rooms' were actually storage spots, at least to the old architect's plans. They might have thought normal to trudge along a narrow shaft to enter their commons…but he certainly didn't.

The moment he stepped through the common room, a worried voice reached his ears.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she fussed near him.

"Mate! You showed the Toad didn't you! Next time can you avoid the loss of points?" Ron Weasley towed behind Hermione. Really, his alternate self was friends with Ron Weasley? Maybe the boy wasn't as thick as the other one, or maybe —just maybe— there actually was some type of brain damage in his other self.

"I'll try," he replied.

"Did madam Pomfrey heal you? Are you all right now?" Hermione's mothering tone actually made him nervous. She wasn't his Hermione: the one with a slightly psychopathic streak and a need to prove herself to him every five seconds. This one seemed…even bossy.

"I am," he answered. His gaze moved around the room, taking in the gold and the red. "I might need your help studying though," he added.

There was silence as the two looked at him quietly.

"Harry? Mate? You all right?"

"I am fine Wea— Ron," he forcefully replied with a light smile. "I just think I would very much like to start studying now. Seeing how I was suspended for an entire week, I suppose—"

"An entire week of suspension!?" Hermione's screech actually made him wince. "Harry James Potter! How could you!"

He shrugged.

That was a mistake.

The moment Hermione finished her tongue-lashing of his 'irresponsible behaviour' he smiled. He smiled and calmly he took a few steps forward before hugging the girl tightly.

"Now, now, all done?" he playfully said as he tapped the back of the girl's head.

There was a stammering, a set of eyes all fixed on them, and then Harry's chuckle as he let go of the hug. He crossed his arms over his chest with a light grin, watching the red inflamed cheeks of Hermione with amusement as the girl seemed to be looking to the right and to the left.

"Th-That's not! We have to make up a study plan now!" she huffed as she spun around, moving towards the closest table. "And you better follow it!"

"Mate," Ron whispered to his side. He looked hurt actually. "What's up with you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry remarked. "I just feel like a different person altogether," he shrugged and grinned at the improvised pun.

Now, if only he could access the Chamber of Secrets…

Everything would be even better.

**Author's notes**

**Spin-Off of Harry Dursley and the Chronicles of the King.**

**Sporadically updated at best.**

**Was trying to find a way to tell the people not to worry, and that the HDCOK new chapter was on its way without doing one of those 'update! New chapter incoming!' things. **

**My excuse? There isn't one. I finished Bioshock Infinite and literally steam-wrote a fanfiction of it. That's it. I wrote it so fast that now that it's finished, I'm back to writing HDCOK and the rest of the fanfics. That's really all there is.**

**For the occasional reader: Harry Dursley in his latest chapter ended up through the Veil in the Department of Mystery. Wearing the invisibility cloak and backed up by quite the number of prophecies, he managed to survive through it until the moment where he ended up killing his past self to avoid a set of mistakes and errors, thus rewriting the past, present and future. And because of that he ended up (here) in the alternate universe which is canon Harry Potter verse of fifth year.**

**And that's all for this chapter.**


	2. The Game has Changed

A King at Hogwarts

Chapter Two

Hermione Granger was a book-smart thick on memorizing data.

He was wit-smart, and he generally worked best with his body rather than his mind. Still, the information he had to learn wasn't heavy, and most of the theory he knew it quickly thanks to his practical applications. He was actually mildly offended some sort of idiotic 'other him' couldn't even memorize a simple thing like Transfiguration. He was even using the wrong wand to begin with!

"Shouldn't we do a general review of the past years?" was the right question with Hermione. Within the end of the first day, he had enough notes to carry him through a very fast and skimpy resume of the missing years. By the end of the third day, he was on-par.

Were Hermione's eyes actually tearing up?

"I knew you could do it, Harry," she sniffled. "I knew it."

"Thanks?" he replied hesitantly.

"Now answer me," Hermione began with her usual bossy tone. "What brought this up? How did you get this smart? Are you taking a Wit-Sharpening potion? You know it's useless, because once the effects are over you lose all—"

"I just wanted to change, Hermione," Harry shrugged as he flicked his wand —sending the books back to their places in the library. "Only that."

"If it isn't Potter and his Mudblood friend," the drawled voice —very familiar— made Harry wince, as he turned around to stare at Draco Malfoy, surrounded by both Crabbe and Goyle and with Pansy Parkinson right behind him.

"Draco," he answered back. "How are you doing?"

"Potter, cease being so overtly familiar with me this instant! I am an enforcer of the High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge, and I demand respect! Not that I can expect such a thing from a savage like you, Potter."

"Are you sure, Draco?" Harry asked then, slowly standing up. "Do you really want this?" he added calmly. "Because if that is your wish, then I have to ask you to kneel in my presence."

There was silence, deafening around them, for a moment. Then Draco began to laugh, loudly. Soon even Crabbe and Goyle joined in, with Parkinson adding her high-pitched voice to the cacophony.

"Me? A Malfoy? Bowing to you!? Really Potter! Have you gone mad!? I am a Pureblood of—"

"_Kneel_," he hissed in that moment. As if slammed down by a powerful force, Draco's face impacted against the ground, the laughter dying out and being replaced by a shriek from Pansy, as Crabbe and Goyle tried to point their wands at him.

"_Trudo_," he off-handedly remarked, slamming only the blunt force of the spell against them —enough to throw them against the opposite side of the wall and let him hear the satisfying sound of their ribs cracking.

"Harry!" Hermione's scandalized cry caught his attention.

"What?" he asked back equally surprised. "They wanted to do this by the rules! I am giving them the rules! The mighty Pureblood wins, right? Look at him!" he slammed his foot straight against Draco's face, the sickening crunch of bones broking and teeth being snapped extremely satisfying. It was a first time.

For the first time he was in the position of power without much to worry about.

He was starting to like the place.

"Now, Draco," he grasped the blond boy by the hair, pulling him up so that he could face him if he got down on his knees. "I want you to beg. Beg me to spare your pathetical and inferior life, beg me like you have never begged Voldemort before and I will let you live." He cooed it out gently. "Or I will kill you and nobody will ever find your remains." He whispered the last part to his ear, before letting the boy's hair go.

"Yo…You're mad…" Draco still managed to wheeze out.

"That was not what I was expecting Draco," his wand was soon pointed at the boy's back. "I wonder, if I remove your spine will you be…flexible enough to understand when you have to bow to your betters?" he added thoughtfully. "Maybe not, then again you convinced Madam Pince not to come around this section of the library for how long? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?"

"You'll be expelled Potter!" Pansy shrieked. "You will—"

"_Moleo."_ And Pansy's blouse exploded to smithereens, as her flesh was ravaged by a smell designed to grind and tear apart —toned down to merely make her skin rash and bleed.

Blood sprayed out as the girl fell on the ground, screaming in pain.

"My, I think they went as far as getting her to leave the library," he commented off-handedly to Hermione. The girl was pale and trembling, looking at him with fear in her eyes. "What are you looking at, Hermione? They would have done the same to us. They wanted a battle…I gave them one," he shook his head, quickly casting the _Reparo_ spell on everything they had suffered and possessed.

They would keep the scars, as a reminder. Yet now there was no proof he had used any spell on them, and as they lay scarred on the ground…he could always mock ignorance. He was pretty sure there were laws against Purebloods being given Veritaserum. He'd abuse them.

The deal could work both sides, after all.

"I'll throw them out of here," he sighed. "Be a good girl and keep this our little secret, all right?" he smiled to her.

"Harry," she whimpered. "You're scaring me."

"Oh?" he blinked. "Well come on, it can't be that bad. Surely they did horrible stuff to you, right? This is just…poetic revenge, really."

"You nearly killed them!" Hermione was starting to find her bossy side back, he knew he should have left with her frightened like a rabbit. "And the spells you used! You're not Harry! You're not the Harry I know of!" she exclaimed fretfully, her wand out.

The next instant, her wand was now in his hand.

"And instead of firing a spell at me, you talked first," Harry rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, have you no shame? There's a Dark Lord around!" he chided her like an angry mother —that was sure to get to her nerves. "And this is all you do?"

He slammed with his wand the four fainted bodies of the Slytherin out of the library. "There, I cleaned the garbage." Shrugging, he threw Hermione's wand back at the girl. "Do me a favor, and stop thinking about what is right or wrong for the law. Start thinking what the right thing is for yourself."

And then Harry left the library smiling and winking at Madam Pinch, who was outside staring dumbfounded at the heap of bodies now out of her 'sanctuary of books'.

"Get them to the infirmary…they might die if you don't," and then, with a shrug, he was gone from there and headed towards the Chamber of Secrets.

His luck of course played against him, making him cross the path with the Headmaster far before he could even reach the floor.

"Mr. Potter!" the Headmaster was actually angry. "The paintings—"

"They attacked first," he shrugged. "I answered back. Look under the voice of Blood Privileges. They accused and brought defamation against my…noble name," he suggested. "I could have killed them. I didn't because frankly, it would be a bad impression on the school."

"Still, we should discuss this in my office, there are still laws that safeguard the students and…where are you going?"

"Oh, just follow me already," Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm going for my friend. Heather should be around the Chamber of Secrets I suppose. She's quite the nice—"

"Is she perchance the Basilisk?"

Harry froze.

"Yes, she is. The other Harry freed her?"

"We should discuss this in priv—"

Harry wasn't listening. He dashed through the corridors, hastily ordering the Chamber of Secrets to open as he reached for the dingy looking sewer-like appearance. There rotting above the stone bridge was none other than Heather's corpse. He slowed down, catching his breath with long shuddering breaths as he gently touched the tip of the Basilisk's nose with his hand.

"Heather?" he whispered. "Heather? Answer me, come on girl," he added. "Who did this to you?" her eyes had been gouged out, dried blood still visible on her face. "Who did this?" he clenched his fists as he screamed in the air.

"_WHO DID THIS!?_"

"Mr. Potter!" in a flash of crimson, both the Headmaster and Sop…Fawkes, appeared behind him within the room. "Calm yourself!"

"_Who. Did. This_!?" he snarled back, "Who killed Heather!?"

"She was not the…friend you believed. Not here at least! She attacked the students, under Voldemort's words! Fortunately none died and…"

"What about her then? She didn't die?" he retorted, taking a step forward towards the Headmaster as the water around them began to ripple. "Is she sleeping then? Because to me it looks like she's fucking dead!"

"Mr. Potter! Language!"

"Language!? I know Parseltongue for the love of Merlin! Why the hell didn't I use it to talk to her!?"

"As I said before, she was under the control of Voldemort. Your…other self, he reached the chamber to save young Miss Weasley who had been taken under control by—"

"And of course I couldn't talk with a Basilisk using Parseltongue, right? I had to fight! You know what!? I hope I never get to meet that other me! Because right now, all I can see is a wimpy imbecile who would rather play Quidditch than learn how to kill a Dark Lord! For heaven's sakes, I wasn't even the prophesized one and yet I was thrice the wizard he was in second year! I could tear apart with my own hands any other student! I could fight and plough my way through the worse! And you're telling me that my other self couldn't even _TALK IN PARSELTONGUE!?"_

"The Basilisk was controlled by…"

"How? Imperius? On a magical beast?" Harry snarled back. "No, answer me. I've got the half-idea of what happened. Let me guess, a diary right? Possessed people yeah? And you know, I still reasoned with her. Heather was my friend, my first honest to god friend I knew would never betray me. And you are telling me she was controlled? Fuck off Dumbledore! _Fuck. Off._"

His wand in hand, Harry's eyes narrowed. "I will get my wand back today, and tomorrow, if I feel like it, I'll be back." He gestured to the sides of the room, his right hand circling as the wand made an oval shape above him.

"_Speak to me Salazar! Greatest of Hogwarts' four!_"

The ripples in the water grew in intensity, as straight in front of Dumbledore, at the end of the rock bridge Salazar's statue opened its mouth.

"Hogwarts always held its secrets close," Harry remarked calmly as he walked forward. "I'll be at Ollivander's first, to check on something. If it isn't there, I'll get myself a portkey to Gregorovitch."

"Mr. Potter! There is a Dark Lord around and…"

"I killed Karkaroff with my own hands at the end of the first semester of third year. I was named the heir of Merlin and of Hogwarts' founders, and I can assure you, Dumbledore, that I know how to hide."

The invisibility cloak came loose from the inner folds of his robe as he wrapped it around himself. "I'm keen on getting back home and having a chat with my other self, but until then…I'll need my wand."

The old wizard looked at him warily, before sighing desperately. "You understand that should you leave, it would be our Harry who would have to shoulder the consequences of your actions?"

"So what?" he shrugged. "What else would he do except kill my friends and play Quidditch?"

"Do you not enjoy the sport? A lot of people your age do," Albus tried again, a small smile on his lips even as his mind realized he'd probably have to take precautions for when the other Harry would come back. The next moment, and the expressive face of Albus disappeared to leave the place to a blank slate.

"How subtle," Albus schooled his features, the smile now forced. "I barely felt it at first."

Harry raised an eyebrow, before nodding slowly. "Being mind-raped ends up with interesting results eventually. Sometimes I'm not even doing it intentionally."

"I see," the headmaster's right hand went to his beard thoughtfully. "I have to ask you to refrain from doing things too much diverse from our Harry however, or it will not be a secret at all soon."

"Maybe we shouldn't keep it a secret," Harry shrugged. "That way, when I leave people will understand the difference easily."

"Even then, I hope that as a student of this Hogwarts, you will refrain from killing any of the students. From another world or not, Mister Potter, murder is a most foul crime in the wizardry world."

"You told that to your Harry when he killed Heather?"

Albus didn't flinch again. "I am sorry for your loss, but this Basilisk and your Basilisk are different animals, different people...Basilisks are mindless beasts here, certainly not friends —they are barely restrained and only parselmouths may command them."

Harry took a few steps towards the open mouth of the stone Founder. "What appears to be and what is…they are seldom the same thing, Dumbledore."

"You will not desist?"

"I cannot," he retorted. "My wand is a part of me, more than you can imagine…"

"I understand," Albus acquiesced. "Why would you pass by there, though? I could make you a portkey directly into the Wandmaker's shop."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather take the floo."

"My office has a fire pit," the Headmaster supplied back.

"I won't trust anything of yours for a long time, Dumbledore."

The old wizard sighed and raised his eyes to the sky. "What have I done?"

"You mean, except the mind—"

"Yes, I understood that clearly."

"Good."

And then Harry simply walked out on the old wizard, climbing through the secret exit that apparently brought him outside to Hogwarts' grounds.

He'd have to learn how to make a portkey or how to apparated eventually —if he couldn't rely on Sophie, he was practically stranded.

As he walked his way towards Hogsmeade, he began to wonder.

What if there was Salazar as a wand?

Should he snap it?

But then again…

What if there wasn't?

What if…what if Salazar was still alive, somewhere around the world?

Even more bone chilling however was something else that slowly crawled its way through Harry's spine.

_What if Salazar was already Prime Minister?_

**Author's notes**

**Harry's growing paranoid.**

**Yeahy.**


End file.
